POP REVIEW

POP REVIEW; Successful and So Very Miserable

By JON PARELES

Published: June 21, 1995

DENVER, June 19—
Eddie Vedder doesn't take things easy. Soon after Pearl Jam started its set tonight at Red Rocks Amphitheater here, his voice started to strain; it grew dry and scratchy, then broke on some notes. The altitude here, more than a mile above sea level, was taking a toll on his breathing: "You guys've got different air," he said.

Yet instead of conserving his voice, Mr. Vedder pushed it harder. After he finished all the lyrics of "Jeremy," he continued with rising, wordless howls that could have cracked at any moment. Like the characters in many Pearl Jam songs, his voice was bruised and ragged but unbowed, and his battle with his own limits made the songs hit home.

Mr. Vedder's narrators "cannot find the comfort in this world"; they doubt themselves, they re-examine old wounds, they seethe against any temptation to compromise. In one of two new songs in the two-hour set, he sang, "I have questions I don't know how to ask." The stage set was dominated by a chandelier shaped like an oblong crown of thorns.

Although it is the most popular American rock band of the 1990's, Pearl Jam finds struggles everywhere. Its current tour of a dozen cities, including two nights at Red Rocks, has been shaped by the band's refusal to use Ticketmaster to distribute tickets. Instead, Pearl Jam is using E.T.M. Entertainment Network, a new company with lower service charges. The purchaser's name is printed on each ticket, and ticket takers here had bar-code scanners to deter counterfeiting and to build a database on fans.

Because Ticketmaster has exclusive contracts with most major arenas and stadiums, Pearl Jam is booked in some places that are not part of the regular rock circuit. Although Red Rocks is often used for concerts, other stops lack things like electricity and fences. No shows have been scheduled east of Chicago.

Even before its break with Ticketmaster, Pearl Jam was reluctant to exploit its popularity. The band has gone out of its way not to become a purely commercial proposition, a touring profit center like the Rolling Stones. Pearl Jam could fill stadiums and charge considerably more than $20 a ticket, but it has tried to balance the demand for concert seats with an attempt to keep shows on a human scale. Most of its current tour dates are at arenas for 20,000 people or fewer; Red Rocks holds 9,000. Mr. Vedder remains leery of big rock tours, even his own; backstage, he said, "If it's not fun this time, then it can't be."

When grunge roared out of Seattle, it was a revitalization and reversal of 1970's rock: part heavy metal, part punk, turning the aggression of both styles inward for brooding, death-haunted songs. Yet with each tour, Pearl Jam has moved closer to the 1960's; on Monday, it quoted the Monkees' "(I'm Not Your) Steppin' Stone" and performed an obscure Eddie Holland song, "Leaving Here," which was also covered by the early Who. Its main 1960's source is San Francisco psychedelia; improvisation reigns.

Pearl Jam seems determined to save its music from routine. It constructs its songs from repeated riffs, but instead of pounding those riffs into the ground, Pearl Jam wrestles with them anew in every performance. Its two guitarists, Stone Gossard and Mike McCready, continually trade roles, one strumming forceful rhythm chords while the other plays curling, wailing, neo-psychedelic leads. Jack Irons on drums and Jeff Ament on bass supply steady propulsion and occasional counterpoint.

The music delivers the hooks, but surrounds them with freedom. Wide dynamic shifts sound spontaneous; songs crescendo, ease back, swirl into guitar tangles, then build again. "Rearviewmirror" floated into a rippling, twinkling passage of high guitar lines and lightly tapped cymbals that could have been a stretch of Grateful Dead.

Mr. Vedder refused to pose like a star. His face and body were wracked with tension; he hunched over, paced the stage or leaned forward diagonally, supported only by the microphone stand. His left hand often dangled as if he'd forgotten it was there. Although audience members sang along on many songs, he didn't lead them until nearly the end of "Alive," when he chanted "yeah" and warily watched the reaction. A few of Pearl Jam's older songs promised a heroic solidarity, but he didn't sing them. Now Pearl Jam performs anthems of solitary resolve, as if inoculating its listeners to face a world of pressures.

Bad Religion, which opened the concert, is a punk band with a social conscience. The songs, by its singer, Greg Graffin, and its guitarist, Brett Gurewitz, are mostly fast, loud and tuneful, carrying messages about environmental problems ("Watch It Die"), the politics of resentment ("Leave Mine to Me") and the battle between hope and despair ("Struck a Nerve"). On recordings, Bad Religion can sound didactic. But onstage, the band's melodies and its gleeful attack made its good intentions sound like fun.

Photo: Eddie Vedder of Pearl Jam was sprayed with water by fans at Red Rocks Amphitheater in Denver Monday. (Joe Mahoney/Associated Press for The New York Times)